


Flinch

by purple_charlie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse flashback, Dean is such a good big brother, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Mentions of Death, Mentions of alcoholism, Not Really Character Death, Vampires, anxiety attack, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:40:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27467335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_charlie/pseuds/purple_charlie
Summary: Based off this writing prompt (https://www.pinterest.com/pin/405112928981224486/) and fleshed out a little bit.Normally, that wouldn’t be enough to reach into my brain and yank out memories of split lips, covering bruises with makeup before work, and ears ringing from slaps and shouts, but today, sitting still-hungry at the table with blood under my fingernails and my ribs smarting, the sting of his big hand on mine sends a wave of cold over me like I’d just done the Ice Bucket Challenge.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & You, Sam Winchester/Reader, Sam Winchester/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	Flinch

“If I had just-”

“Sam, I swear to god, if you try to blame yourself one more time, I’m going to lose it.”

We just got home from a hunt where we lost another innocent, and of course Sam is taking it on his giant shoulders. I’d gotten slammed into a wall and had some bruised ribs to show for it, Dean’s nose was broken, and when we all got back to the Bunker we realized we’d forgotten to go grocery shopping after the hunt and were now mostly out of food. Dean had gone to a bar for a burger, of course, but Sam and I had tried to throw dinner together from the dregs in the kitchen. Ramen and applesauce and stale potato chips lay on the table between us, and we couldn’t help but fall into replaying the hunt over again. 

My ridiculous boyfriend glares out from under his hair at me, and a shiver goes down my spine. Not a sexy one, a cold, tingling fingernail of dread scraping down my vertebrae. 

“You don’t get it, you just started hunting,” he starts up again, running a hand through his hair, “I’m responsible for these people, I'm supposed to be the one who saves them.It’s-it’s  _ predetermined _ .” 

Sam’s fists are clenched on the table in front of him, the skin of his knuckles white. I reach out, but before my hand can land on his, Sam growls and swats it away, teeth flashing. 

And normally, that wouldn’t be enough to reach into my brain and yank out memories of split lips, covering bruises with makeup before work, and ears ringing from slaps and shouts, but today, sitting still-hungry at the table with blood under my fingernails and my ribs smarting, the sting of his big hand on mine sends a wave of cold over me like I’d just done the Ice Bucket Challenge. 

I yank my hand away and stand up so fast the chair clatters to the floor. Sam startles at the sound, still scowling, but his face clears when he gets a good look at me. He reaches out, but the width of his hand sends my heart galloping in my chest, and I suck in air through clenched teeth, throwing my arms in front of my face.

“Y/N-”

That’s as far as I let him get before I turn and flee from the kitchen. 

I don’t really pay attention to where I run. I’ve slipped back into a Frightened Animal state I thought I left behind a long time ago. My feet pound on the metal flooring of the Bunker, almost slipping in my sock feet, mind skittering over hiding places until I end up turning the corner of the living quarters hallway. I yank open one of the unused rooms and slam the door shut behind me before I dive into the closet and shut that door too. Only when I’m curled into the smallest ball I can get myself into do I take a full breath. The sleeves of my shirt are wet from where I’ve shoved my face into my arms, and I can’t get myself to stop shaking. Images of raised fists and the sound of mocking laughter over the sharp crack of slaps on my cheeks flash through my head. The hands aren’t even connected to a person, not one I can see, just echoes of pain and fear and stinging humiliation. 

The sound of Sam calling my name makes me jump, then try to burrow myself further into the corner. His footsteps come closer, and my heart rate spikes, but even as he walks away adrenaline still surges through my body.

I’m not sure how long I stay curled up in the closet. Time is always a bit squishy when I get swallowed up by fear, and it’s been a long time since this happened. Mick hasn’t crossed my mind in months, and this is the first time Sam has ever reminded me of him. Of course it’s in the worst possible way. Everything about Sam is the opposite of Mick. Where Mick was small and fast and viscous, Sam is big and patient and so, so gentle. 

When I can breathe without hiccuping, I slowly unfold my legs on the floor of the carpet. My feet throb from sprinting on metal flooring, and my fingers tingle as I carefully unclench my hands. There’s little crescent moons in my palms. The air smells like mothballs, and my nose tickles with dust. I try to scrub away some of the tear tracks on my face, but that just sends me into a sneezing fit that hurts my bruised ribs. 

“ _ Fuck _ .” I mutter to myself, standing slowly, pins and needles in my legs. The closet door creaks as I open it, and just as I’m about to reach the bedroom door, it swings in from the hall. I’m already dehydrated from crying, and the light sends shards of pain into my eyes. I squint at the silhouette in the door and realize it’s Dean, arm still outstretched, hand on the doorknob. 

“Y/N? What’re you doin’ in here?” He asks, blinking. He doesn’t even have to do anything before another wave of fear pulls me under. A gasp slips out of my mouth before I can catch it, and I twist at the waist, putting my shoulder and elbow between me and the enormous man blocking my way out. 

“Hey, whoa, easy there.” Dean murmurs, his eyes wide, holding up his hands. “Just me, just good ‘ol Deano.” 

I take a couple slow breaths before turning to face him again, shoulders up around my ears. Dean just raises his eyebrows at me. 

“Wanna tell me why you’re freakin’ out in an empty bedroom in the dark?” He asks, glancing around. I actually take a look at the room I had chosen to hide myself away in. The vintage mattress is folded up on the bed, showing the springs of the bed frame, and there’s a thick layer of dust on the desk and built in shelves. Even the carpet is dusty, with little clean footprints leading into and out of the closet. I heave out a sigh, looking anywhere but at Dean’s face. 

“Ooookay. This requires emergency measures.” Dean steps aside and waves me out of the room, leaving me space to walk past him. “Ah, jeez, kid, you’re all dusty. Mind if I-?” Dean holds his hands out alongside my arms, but when I flinch away again he crosses his arms over his chest and tucks his hands into his armpits.

“No touchy. Got it.” He motions with his chin before he starts walking, leaving me to trail along behind him. He leads me back into the kitchen, nodding at the table before he goes to rummage around in a cupboard. The table is clean, dishes drying next to the sink, no evidence of my and Sam’s makeshift dinner and my subsequent freakout remaining. I sit in a different chair than the one I had knocked over earlier, staring into the middle distance as Dean clinks and clatters around, spacing out for the few minutes it takes him to finish whatever he’s doing.

“Here.” I look up at Dean’s soft voice. He’s setting down a steaming mug of hot chocolate, tiny marshmallows floating on the top. Dean settles at the other end of the table, cradling his own mug under his chin. He gives me a crooked little grin and nods at the mug when I pick it up. “Couldn’t decide whether you needed chocolate or alcohol, so I gave you a little of both.” 

Whiskey warms my throat when I take a sip, the booze and the hot drink settling over my shoulders like a soft blanket. Dean doesn’t press me to talk, just settles back with a sigh, kicking his feet onto one of the other chairs. Gradually, helped by the whiskey, my body relaxes. My heart slows back down to a pitter patter, and I finally feel like I can look at Dean without seeing Mick. 

“So, uh.” I clear my throat, heat climbing to my cheeks that has nothing to do with the spiked drink. “I didn’t expect you to walk in on me.”

Dean shrugs, setting his mug down carefully. 

“You’re not the weirdest thing I’ve found in here while looking for towels.” He runs his finger around the rim of the mug, peering up at me. “Wanna talk about whatever sent you in there?”

I squint down at my own mug, swirling the dregs around.

“I’ve never told you how I started hunting, Really. Not the whole story.” Dean doesn’t reply, and somehow that makes opening up this emotional can of worms that much easier. “It was a few years ago. A nest of vampires. They’d taken me and my boyfriend when we were leaving a bar one night.” 

I let out a shaky breath, gripping my mug tightly. Clenching my eyes shut does nothing to ward off the phantom shackle around my ankle, the cold spreading out from my neck where they would bite me.

“They fed on us for a while. Kept us alive and chained up in a barn. I was delirious, so I wasn’t sure how long it was while I was there, but when I got out, it had been two  _ months _ .”

“How’d you get out?” 

When I open my eyes, Dean has leaned forward, elbows on his knees. 

“Another hunter busted in and took care of the vamps. She and her husband had been tracking them since we’d been taken, found our missing persons reports.” I look away, staring at the edge of the kitchen island but not seeing it. “But by the time Alyssa and Reed had found us, my boyfriend was dead. And I’d never been so relieved.”

Silence stretches between Dean and I for a moment, but it doesn’t feel awkward or forced. I realize how comfortable I am with both Winchesters now, how the Bunker feels like home. How it feels safe. How these two giant, soft men feel so much safer than Mick ever did.

“His name was Mick. We’d been dating for 5 years, right after I dropped out of school. I’d moved to Minneapolis to be with him after my mom died. I didn’t have much family, and moving in with my boyfriend seemed like the safest place.” I shake my head, setting my mug on the table and rubbing my eyes. “Turns out it wasn’t safe at all.” 

I don’t jump when Dean sets a hand on my knee, but it’s a close thing. The weight of his hand feels comforting, not like a trap, and it spurs me on.

“He lost his job a year after I’d moved in with him. Then he started drinking.” My voice is getting hoarse, throat tightening up against tears. “He blamed me for him losing his job, somehow. Resented me for still working, even though it was just at CVS. Eventually, he-he started hitting me.” 

Dean lets out a puff of breath through his nose, and I can feel the anger radiating off of him. But this time, with this person, I know it’s not directed at me, I know that this anger is one of protection. 

“Y/N, you don’t gotta tell me anymore if it hurts too much.” He murmurs, voice tight. “Just- you know you’re safe with us, right? Especially Sammy, that moose cares about you like crazy.”

I glance up and give Dean a small smile. 

“I know. Thank you, though.” I press my hand to his where it’s still resting on my knee. Dean flips his hand over, pulling mine up to his mouth and kissing my knuckles, winking when I laugh. It feels good to be silly with him, to feel the last dregs of terror melting away.

“So.” He squeezes my hand, still holding it. “What sent you into that extra bedroom?”

I reach up and scrub my hands over my face, groaning. 

“Sam.” 

“Holy shit, did he-”

“No, no! We, ugh, it was stupid. Sam was doing his ‘I could have saved them’ bit, and I was tired of it. I just tried to put my hand on his, and he kind of-” I mimic Sam’s swatting motion, pursing my lips. “I guess I was just hangry and sore and tired from the hunt, but it just. Sent me into a panic.” I shrug, looking up into Dean’s face. He takes a deep breath and nods, leaning back in his chair.

“Kicked open a box in your head you thought you’d locked?”

I nod slowly, picking at my fingernails. Dean hums, then gets up to clean away our mugs. He’s quiet again while he tidies up, then comes to stand next to me, holding out a hand.

“You up for a hug? You could probably use one.” 

A smile spreads across my face as I stand, stepping into Dean’s warm embrace. He squeezes me close, pressing a kiss to my temple.

“If that jackhole wasn’t dead already I’d want to kill him myself.” He grumbles.

My throat tightens up again, and I let myself sniffle just a little bit, hiding my face in Dean’s shirt. He doesn’t respond, just holds me a little tighter, tucking me under his chin. After a moment he steps back, then cups my face, thumbs swiping under my eyes.

“You probably need some sleep.” He says quietly. I nod, suddenly bone tired. My ribs ache, and I’m fried from the adrenaline of both the hunt and my panic attack.

“Thanks, Dean.”

He smiles at me, eyes crinkling at the corners, and wraps me up in one more hug before I head to bed. 

When I crack the door of our shared bedroom open, Sam is sitting in bed, staring at his hands, phone abandoned at his side. He looks up when I edge myself in, eyes wide and watery. 

“Y/N.” He breathes, still as a statue. My cheeks burn as I glance down at the floor, embarrassment flooding through me. 

“Hi.”

“What-what happened?” Sam whispers, like he’s scared I’ll bolt again. “Did I do something wrong?” 

The pain in Sam’s voice makes me snap my head up to look at him, and my heart breaks when I see his bottom lip trembling, jaw clenched and cheeks red.

“No, Sam, fuck, it wasn’t you.” I stride over to the bed and drop down next to him, taking his big hands in mine. “I just, ok, maybe it was you, but you didn’t mean it.”

Sam chokes on a breath, clutching at my hands. I lean forward and kiss him softly, just once, before leaning back and taking a long, deep breath.

“Before I started hunting, I was in an abusive relationship.” 

Sam hisses a breath through his teeth like he’s about to start talking, but I hold up a hand. 

“His name was Mick, and he-he hit me. A lot.” I whisper, voice cracking. “When you knocked my hand away at the table, it- god, this word has been so overused- it triggered me.”

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m so,  _ so _ sorry, I never-”

“I know, Sam, I know, honey.” I reach out and cup Sam’s face, and he leans into the touch, kissing my wrist as his hand covers mine. “It hasn’t happened in a long time, and you’ve never once reminded me of him, even when you’ve been mad.” 

Sam looks at me from under his eyelashes, smiling sadly. We just look at each other for a moment before I close the distance between us, climbing into Sam’s lap. He wraps around me like a koala, nuzzling his nose under my ear. 

“Can I ask you something?” Sam whispers, big hands running up and down my back. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” 

I squeeze his shoulders, nodding. It’s easier to talk about these things when I can’t see Sam’s face, see the pain in his expression.

“How did you get away from him?”

“I didn’t.” I sigh, pushing farther into Sam’s chest. “He followed me to a bar where I was out with friends one night. Yelled and screamed about how I was cheating on him- I wasn’t- and when we got kicked out to the parking lot, we got snatched by a vampire couple.”

Sam’s arms tighten around me, fingers pressing into my back. 

“He died the day before I was saved by the hunter couple who took me under their wings.” The image of Mick’s cold body across the barn floor swims up in my mind before I can avoid it, his pale blue eyes staring at nothing, the vamps laughing as they kicked at him. 

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m so sorry.” Sam kisses across my cheek to my lips, a hand sliding up to cradle my jaw. When he pulls away he rests his forehead on mine, our noses brushing. “I promise, I’ll never- fuck, I couldn’t even imagine-” He cuts off, pressing another kiss to my mouth, his hand shaking.

“I know you won’t Sam, I know, honey, it’s ok.”

“God, I love you so much, I couldn’t-”

I pull away, my mouth dropping open, chest seized tight. Sam’s eyes widen as he realizes what he just said, both of us frozen, staring at each other.

“You love me?”

Sam snaps his mouth shut and nods, face red. My face splits in a grin, and Sam’s eyebrows slowly raise up his forehead.

“Say it again.” 

Sam matches my grin, reaching up to cup my face like a Disney prince. 

“I love you.” He murmurs, gold and green twinkling in his hazel eyes. Warmth spreads through my chest, and I feel like the only thing holding me down is Sam’s hands, gentle and steady. Mick is the farthest thing from my mind in this moment, here with this giant, beautiful man in our ridiculous underground home after killing a monster. 

“I love you too, Sam."


End file.
